


Breathless

by lod



Category: Persona 5
Genre: But no dicks!, Choking, Electricity, Hair-pulling, I thought I was being creative with that previous tag and it autocompleted, M/M, Mementos (Persona 5), Mild Kink, PWP without Porn, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 05:15:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15574581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lod/pseuds/lod
Summary: “C’mon, you heard me. Don’t make me repeat it, dude! Look, I— I know it’s weird, but I saw a video about it the other night and it’s just been on my mind every since. I can’t stop thinking about it, it’s driving me crazy, I feel like I can’t focus… You gotta help me out, bro!”And since when does Akira ever refuse to help Ryuji out?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Voido](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voido/gifts).



> This is all Voido's fault. If you hate it, blame her, and if you love it, thank her ;)

It has been a fairly short day in Mementos. There was only one easy target to take down, and when it was taken care of Akira decided to stop there rather than keep pushing towards the next path; they have time, and not everyone seems to be in top fighting shape. He’ll need to make sure everyone’s getting as much rest as they need before the next Palace comes along.

He stands by the exit of Mementos, waiting for his team to finish passing through. He always leaves the Metaverse last so he can make sure everyone is safely out. It’s also helpful if he needs to head into the Velvet Room; lately his teammates have started asking what he’s doing staring at that corner again. Ryuji’s just before him today, but instead of exiting, he turns towards Akira, biting his lip in a strangely shy way.

“Hey, uh, do you have other plans after this?”

“I was gonna do a little studying and maybe make a few lockpicks before bed, but nothing that can’t wait.” Does Ryuji just want to hang out? That doesn’t explain the strange shyness, or why he waited until they were alone to ask, though.

“There’s something I kinda need help with.” Is he… blushing? “Look, this is gonna be really weird, and there’s no one else I feel even slightly comfortable asking. Outside the Metaverse I don’t even think I’d have the guts to ask.”

Now Akira’s really curious. “Sure, I’m there for you. What do you need?”

Ryuji shifts, refusing to make eye contact and tapping his foot nervously.

“I… want you to choke me.”

Akira sputters, staring at Ryuji wide-eyed. “You want me to what??”

Ryuji’s red as a tulip as he stares at the floor like it’s the most interesting thing in the room. “C’mon, you heard me. Don’t make me repeat it, dude! Look, I— I know it’s weird, but I saw a video about it the other night and it’s just been on my mind every since. I can’t stop thinking about it, it’s driving me crazy, I feel like I can’t focus… You gotta help me out, bro!”

Come to think of it, Ryuji  _ has  _ been a little out of it today. That’s part of the reason Akira decided not to pull ahead; Ryuji’s skill at taking down weaker Shadows is really essential in making rapid progress, but he kept missing and getting them pulled into fights they didn’t need.

“You’re the only one I trust, and I figure if we do it in here, if anything goes wrong you can heal me.”

Akira scowls. “I’m not gonna hurt you!”

“That’s kind of the p— look, will you do it or not, man!”

Akira thinks it over. It sounds a bit strange, but clearly this matters a lot to Ryuji, and it’s not like him to deny his best friend anything. Plus, he has to keep his team in peak condition, right? A distraction like this isn’t helping.

“Alright, let’s do it. Lemme pop out and tell the others not to wait up. I’ll say we’re gonna work on your new skill together.”

Ryuji looks grateful. Akira tells the others to head on home; none of them seem surprised that he’s staying with Ryuji. They must have noticed his frequent misses too; in any case, Akira and Ryuji spending all their time together is old news by now. When he returns, he’s all business.

“Ok, let’s go down to the first safe room. I suppose you’d rather not risk someone walking in and seeing us doing this here.”

Ryuji nods vigorously, and they head down the escalators. This close to the entrance, the Shadows are weak and they flee from them, so they have no trouble getting around. Within ten minutes they’re sitting side by side in the subway station that acts as a safe room in Mementos, each waiting for the other to start talking.

Ryuji looks nervous, playing with his ascot. Akira reaches over, catches his hands in his own and waits until he calms down. He’s used to being Ryuji’s anchor when he gets too excited or anxious and it comes naturally, even though this situation comes close to breaking his own legendary calm. He finally decides to take the first step, getting started so they can get it over with quickly.

“So, should I just use my hands, or…?”

“I was thinking you could, um. Use my ascot,” Ryuji says as he tugs off his gloves and undoes the knot in the red cloth around his neck. Pulling it off, he hands it to Akira.

Akira turns the silky fabric over in his hands. This is quickly turning from a slightly awkward request to… a lot more. For one, it’s definitely at least somewhat sexual, and although they’re very tactile friends, always with an arm around each other or a hand on a shoulder, this goes way past casual touching. For two, there’s the safety issue. He’s definitely out of his depth; he’s seen things on the internet before, obviously; he isn’t some sheltered kid. But between jacking off to a few kinky videos and safely choking your friend, there’s a big gap.

He hesitates before saying, “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do.”

Ryuji acts surprised. “I think that’s the first time I hear you sound unsure about anything.”

That’s silly, of course. There’s plenty of things Akira isn’t good at. Like… hmm. Well, he can’t think of a specific example right now, but that doesn’t mean anything. And anyway, there are more pressing concerns to deal with.

Ryuji takes the scarf from him, folds it over on itself and slides it back around his neck, passing the ends through the loop.

“Here, just… grab this and pull, I guess.”

Akira holds the scarf uncertainly, a good minute passing before Ryuji coughs meaningfully. Alright, he agreed to do this, so now he’s got to step up and act. Steeling himself, he tugs lightly — and immediately drops everything when Ryuji makes a small sound of pain.

“Sorry! I’m so sorry, are you ok? I’ve never done this before!”

He stops apologizing when he realises he seems ok — or rather, he doesn’t seem to be in pain. He  _ does _ , however, look a little annoyed.

“Why’d you stop?”

Right. The pain is probably part of what makes this appealing. And Ryuji asked  _ him _ to do this. Akira tries to ignore how that makes him feel and pulls again, barely harder than before. He’s trying, but the idea of hurting Ryuji, of hurting his best friend, seems to physically restrain him. This time, Ryuji doesn’t react, but the look of frustration on his face grows as Akira’s grip stays light and careful.

This goes on for a minute or two before he huffs loudly. “‘Eff, man, harder! Come on!” he yells as he wraps his hand around Akira’s, tightening his fingers around the ascot.

In the real world, Akira would have accepted the angry words without a second thought. However, this is the Metaverse, and Joker does  _ not _ like being yelled at. Not at all. So it’s without really thinking that Akira plants a hand against Ryuji’s chest, and with the other, gives a sharp and sudden jerk on the fabric he’s holding. When he does, Ryuji’s neck snaps forward and he lets out a raw, needy moan. There’s a strange hot and electric smell to the air and a crackling sound that Akira quickly realises is coming from Ryuji’s fingertips, sparks jumping between his fingers. Between that and the moan, Akira’s suddenly much more invested in this.

 

There isn’t anything going on between Ryuji and Akira, they’re just best friends. That’s what either one of them would swear up and down, in any case. (The rest of the team would argue that there’s a hell of a lot of sexual tension and if they could just get over it and sleep together already, it would be easier for everyone.) Looking at Ryuji now, eyes half-shut and throat exposed like he expects Akira to bite it, lightning coursing down his hands, Akira can’t quite manage to tell himself the usual lie. There’s definitely something there, and Joker isn’t going to sit back and let it slip out of grasp.

 

Rising, ascot still tightly held in his hand, Joker comes to stand over Ryuji. He pins Ryuji into the seat with a knee in his lap as he gives another sharp tug on the scarf. Brighter lightning zaps into his hands, spitting sparks into the air, and Joker smirks. He reaches down with his free hand to run his fingertips from Ryuji’s throat to his chin, tilting his head further back.

Ryuji’s chest is rising and falling at a staccato rate and he lets him get his breath back before he pulls again, savoring the breathless sounds he makes, low and unintelligible and so _eager_.

He settles into a rhythm then, letting Ryuji take a breath before stealing it from him again and again, the red of his gloves melting seamlessly into the silk sliding on Ryuji’s neck. Ryuji’s getting louder, and as he loses control the sparks on his body get bigger and crackle harder. His head’s dropped fully back against the seat at some point, neck stretched out for Akira, and for some reason it’s more of a turn-on than any naked girl moaning for a camera.

Akira lets the ascot go slack, savoring the view before him; Ryuji panting, his hair as full of static as if it’d been rubbed with a balloon, sweat beading on his face and rolling down his neck. He’s about to let go of the scarf — Ryuji’s clearly gotten what he came for at this point, and there’s no need to keep this going on any longer — but Joker isn’t quite ready to stop yet. He lets Ryuji get a few more breaths in, his fingers tightening against the fabric, and when he’s satisfied that he’s gotten enough oxygen he  _ pulls _ , fisting the cloth in his hand and not letting go till Ryuji’s entire body’s drawn away from the chair, arching forward and exposed skin lit up brighter than a Christmas tree.

Ryuji, who’s been passive this whole time, hands gripping the edge of his seat, suddenly raises an arm. His eyes are still closed, his hand blindly reaching for Akira. “Aki, you gotta, you gotta stop I can’t hold ba—” and then his hand lands on Akira’s face, the rest of the sentence lost to the void as the current jumps from Ryuji’s hand to his face and his whole body  _ jolts _ , the zap loud and painful and  _ so, so arousing _ .

He’s not even conscious of letting the ascot go, of stepping back unsteadily. Luckily, Ryuji’s just as incapacitated as he is, hands trembling as he adjusts his clothes, attempts to shift his pants discreetly. Not for the first time, Akira’s grateful for his ugly-as-sin but comfortably loose pants. He wipes the sweat off his forehead, pushing his bangs back, then tugs his damp gloves off and shoves them in a pocket before offering Ryuji a hand up.

Ryuji’s shakey on his feet, and Akira wraps an arm around his shoulder to stabilize him. When he seems to be steadier, Akira drops his arm, and as the Joker side of himself retreats he feels a bright, hot blush rise to his cheeks. Glancing at Ryuji from the corner of his eye, he sees its echo on his face. No amount of “no homo” is going to explain  _ this _ one away. Ryuji seemed about a heartbeat from losing himself entirely, and if he’d left his hand on Akira any longer he’s not sure he wouldn’t have joined him.

And a little voice inside him whispers that the only issue here is that they stopped before reaching that point…

They start walking back towards the exit, still pointedly looking at anything but each other. When they get to the entrance, Akira could swear he catches a knowing smile on Justine’s face before it falls back into its usual emotionless mask.

Before exiting, Ryuji puts a hesitant hand on his shoulder and looks down at their feet as he says, “Thanks for doing this for me. Sorry if it was… weird.”

He steps out before giving Akira a change to reply. Back on the other side, he grabs Ryuji’s shoulder and tugs him around so they’re face to face.

“.... I wouldn’t mind doing it again,” Akira hears himself reply, his shock reflected in Ryuji’s expression. He definitely hadn’t been planning on saying  _ that _ . A gift from Joker, he has to assume, and thankfully Ryuji spares him from having to try to explain himself by muttering some excuse about needing to get home and running off, visibly struggling to walk correctly.

Akira watches him go, his mind racing; it’s been a very instructive afternoon. He turns to head back inside, hoping Morgana decided to head out today. There’s a few things he’d like to look up, preferably with his browsing history turned off.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s awkward the next few times they meet up, but neither of them mentions the events of that afternoon again and things quickly return to normal, despite the mental image Ryuji can’t shake of a fiery, controlling Akira looming over him with his scarf in hand.

Therefore, it comes as a bit of a surprise when about two weeks later, he wakes up in the middle of the night to a chat message from Akira containing a link to a video of someone getting their hair pulled with no further explanation.

Akira likes to send him silly memes sometimes, usually forwards from Futaba, so he watches the video, waiting for the joke. A woman is explaining how to get a good grip on someone’s hair, what’s erotic vs. simply painful or likely to rip hair out, showing the move off on her very turned-on guinea pig. The video comes to an end, and Ryuji realises he didn’t catch anything funny. He watches it again — maybe he missed something. He has to make sure. The third time he watches it, he doesn’t even bother trying to justify it.

* * *

The next morning, Akira’s leaning against the subway wall like he always does, waiting for someone to join him on the ride to school. Most of the time it’s Ryuji, but he’s seen him chatting with Ann, Makoto, or even Akechi before. Ryuji comes up to him, taking advantage of the fact no one seems to be too close to them, and asks in a quiet tone, “What was that last night?”

Akira turns to him and — no. That’s not Akira. That grin and the half-lidded eyes boring through his soul are Joker through and through. Ryuji suppresses a shiver as Joker chuckles. “Remember when I helped you out? My turn.”

Ryuji swallows hard, tries to tamp down the blush threatening to paint him red. His gaze wanders up to the mass of soft waves on Akira’s head, then jerks back down to meet Joker’s eyes. He’s still got that self-assured smile on. It’s all Ryuji can do not to run away, but he owes Akira one for last time, and a small, devious part of him whispers that it might lead to more of the scarf around his neck and the sparks on his bod—

He cuts off that train of thought before it goes too far. “Sure, dude. When?” His words are confident but his voice trembles and he sees the laughter in Joker’s eyes.

“Tonight, Mementos. Meet me an hour after last bell at Leblanc’s.”

“Ok, alright. I can do that.”

Joker nods in satisfaction, and then relinquishes control of Akira; his eyes are soft and kind where they were predatory and possessive a moment before, his smile abruptly shrinking into that small, quiet one Ryuji loves.

_Loves?_

Ryuji shakes his head to clear it. Where did that come from? He just loves seeing his friend happy. That’s all. It’s normal to love that. Nope, not thinking about that any longer; time to get on the train before they’re late to class.

* * *

His anxiety grows throughout the day as images of scarves and hands tangled in hair flash through his head like a slideshow that doesn’t end. By the last period he’s tapping his foot so frantically that the girl sitting in front of him keeps turning around to glare daggers at him, but he can’t make himself stop. The bell rings at last, startling him, and he all but rushes out of class.

Walking around helps a bit, but after checking his watch four times in four minutes while trying to distract himself at the arcade, he decides to just head over. He figures he can look around Yongen-Jaya while he waits.

 

There’s not much to see in Yongen. A few vending machines where he buys himself a soda, a boarded up movie theater, the hot doctor’s clinic….  Making his way towards Leblanc, he sees what looks more like a messy garage than a shopfront, with an old man leaning on a stool and reading a magazine. For a moment he thinks it’s just someone’s home, but when he notices the price tags on items he realises this must be the second-hand shop Akira got his TV from. He greets the owner as he steps in.

There’s everything in this shop, from a retro gaming console he’s surprised Futaba hasn’t snapped up yet — he should tell Akira about it — to figurines, old magazines, furniture and even an aquarium. It’s pretty cheap, so he sends a quick photo of it to Yusuke; it might be helpful for his lobsters. As he does, he notices it’s just about time to head over to Akira’s.

 

Sojiro sends him upstairs, and the awkwardness in the air is so thick you can taste it as they enter Mementos. Akira leads him back to the first safe room in silence. Ryuji’s gaze lands on the seat he was in last time, the seat where he nearly…. He looks away in a hurry and ends up staring straight at Akira for the first time since they met up. Akira’s eyes, the eyes that know everything. That’s definitely not any better, but it’s not like there’s any backing out at this point.

“How do you wanna do this?”

Akira shrugs, looking a lot more casual than Ryuji feels. “You watched the video, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then just do what she did.”

Ryuji looks at Akira, imagines pushing his fingers against his scalp, winding through his hair. He feels the hairs on his arms raise and rubs his hands nervously on his forearms. In front of him, Akira’s reaching a hand to his forehead like he wants to… “Akira? What are you doing?”

“Just a sec,” he says, and then Ryuji sees the telltale flash of light that indicates he’s changing his Persona. He calls out “Matador!” and the new Persona appears for a moment, twirling his sword. Is he planning on fighting? And also...

“Isn’t that one weak to lightning?”

Akira nods.

“Dude! I’m gonna try to be careful but you know I can’t be sure what happened last time won’t… happen again, you know?”

Akira’s eyes are hot as embers as he steps forward and catches Ryuji’s hand in his. He pulls off one of his yellow gloves, then the other.

“ _I know_.”

Ryuji’s hand feels like it’s burning where Akira still holds it, and he jerks away like he’s just touched a stove. His heart’s beating so hard he thinks he might faint, but he forces himself to step forward, closing the gap between them. Hesitantly, his hand reaches up to brush at the nape of Akira’s neck. Even that much has him trembling. Akira’s impatient stare doesn’t help. By sheer force of will he manages to keep moving, to let his fingers tangle through the velvety black strands — and how can any one person have hair this soft, it’s really not fair — to let his hand slide up until he’s cupping the back of Akira’s head. As he looks into wide-pupiled grey eyes, just inches from his, he realises it would take barely only the smallest movement to lean forward and press his lips to Akira’s. The thought makes him bite his lip and he blinks, unsure where it came from; this is just two bros helping each other out. They’re only standing this close because this is the easiest way to do it; there’s no call to be imagining kisses.

Akira glances down to where he’s biting his lower lip and back up. When Akira’s tongue flicks out to moisten his own lips, something inside of Ryuji swoops, and he feels a slight tingling at the nape of his neck. He’s got to get a hold of himself. This is a confusing enough situation without him making it worse! He digs the nails of his free hand into his palm, the sharp pain helping to distract him from the heat radiating off Akira, from how _right_ having his hand in his best friend’s hair feels.

Time to get to the main event, he supposes. Just like in the video, he spreads his fingers wide before making a fist. When he’s satisfied with his grip, he pulls, forceful without being too harsh. Nothing could prepare him for Akira’s reaction. His head tilts back, following the movement of Ryuji’s hand with a passionate groan, and he wobbles; Ryuji has only a heartbeat to wrap his arm around his waist and pull him tight before his legs give out entirely.

He’s been doing his best, but seeing Akira’s usual cool composure fly to pieces at his hands, combined with the physical contact of their bodies pressed together from thigh to chest, destroys what little self-control he has left. Lightning materializes on every exposed part of him, and his suit feels 2 sizes too tights, like an extra layer of skin he itches to shed to let the energy out.

Akira’s a bit more stable now, so he lets him go and brings his hand to tangle in black hair once again. When he makes contact, Akira drops to the floor with a gasp, too fast for Ryuji to catch him this time. Ryuji’s confused by how strong Akira’s reactions are until he remembers the Persona change. He feels guilty; knock downs are something you do to Shadows, not to your friends….

Beneath him, Akira shrugs out of his jacket, leaving his bare arms exposed to the shoulder, and reaches up to tug Ryuji to the floor by his bandolier belt.

“Touch me,” he says, fiery and impatient and demanding, and Ryuji can’t help but obey his leader. He lets his fingertips trail softly up and down Akira’s arms, enjoying the shivers and soft moans he gets in reply. There’s something amazing about knowing Akira’s giving him this control, letting him reduce him to this quivering state. Even as he enjoys it, he feels an intrusive thought trying to worm its way into his brain, whispering about enjoying this way too much to just be two guys giving each other a hand. He shoves it away; there’ll be time enough for self-questioning later.

Akira moves suddenly, reaching for the wall to stabilize himself as he pushes back up to a stand. Once he’s on his feet he sags against the tile on his forearms, back to Ryuji as his head hangs, panting loudly in the quiet station. Ryuji knows that any words might break this fragile, beautiful thing they’re building, so he keeps his mouth shut as he gets closer to Akira.

Carefully, he reaches out and cups Akira’s shoulders with his hands. The increased physical contact makes Akira’s hips buck forward, and the implications of _that_ move send a brighter jolt of lightning into Ryuji’s hands, ripping a strangled, high pitched whine from Akira.

Ryuji may have been shy at the beginning, but now he’s surrendered to Skull’s confidence, giving in to the glowing warmth in his stomach, to the dry thirst in his throat. This is where they’ve been headed this whole time. He grabs Akira’s hair, much less careful this time, and pulls him away from the wall before turning him around and slamming him back against it. They’re face to face now, and Ryuji takes advantage of Akira’s surprise to pin his wrists above his head, shoving a knee between his legs and pressing up.

It has the result he was hoping for; Akira’s shaking beneath him, twitching against his knee, helpless and red and absolutely gorgeous. Ryuji leans forward, lets his nose brush against Akira’s. He’s _starving_ in the strangest way, like he wants to eat Akira up in big bites, to leave the mark of his teeth all over Akira’s porcelain skin. He fights off that impulse, settles for tilting his head to the side and bringing their lips closer, his eyes batting shut as his nose slides against Akira’s and he feels a soft, warm breath against his lips—

And finds himself knocked a few feet away on his ass, blinking stars out of his eyes as Akira strides towards him, the click of his heeled boots echoing in the empty station with each deliberate step.

“My turn.”

There’s a fire in his eyes that’s half aroused, half angry, and 100% Joker. Ryuji can’t do much more than lean backwards, stare and let out a breathy, “Effin’ hell, Akira…”

Akira drops to one knee and grabs Ryuji’s neck. The pressure against his throat threatens to blank out his mind, but he forces himself to hold back the lightning in his skin, to resist the urge to let go and give himself up to Akira. Instead, he reaches forward and in one smooth motion, unzips his waistcoat.

It’s halfway to being a corset with how tight and stiff it is, so it springs apart when he does, revealing Akira’s toned chest and his muscular stomach. Ryuji sucks in a breath; he’s been making Akira workout with him for long enough by now that it’s no surprise the guy is ripped, but it doesn’t show in his usual clothing. Here, with only an open vest hanging off his shoulders, there’s no denying that he’s very, very fit. Not as bulky as Ryuji, but his low body fat means his muscles stand out in crisp lines, defined and smooth and _lickable_.

He puts that idea away for later. Instead, he flattens his hand against Akira’s chest and lets loose all the electric potential that’s been building up inside of him. The blast knocks Akira back and Ryuji doesn’t waste a minute following him, pinning his arms to the floor as he kneels over him. He bends down to bite at Akira’s neck, counting on the electricity in his hands to subdue Akira somewhat, but that’s underestimating his strength.

Akira pushes Ryuji off and flips them around so that he’s the one on all fours above Ryuji now, and — Ryuji realises with a gasp as the cold metal touches his neck — holds one of his daggers to his throat.

“Careful,” Akira says with a voice as sharp as his knife. “I’ve got thorns.”

And hell if that’s not a corny-ass line, but it works on Ryuji anyway. He worries at his lip without really meaning to as the feeling of powerlessness courses through him, setting all his nerves on fire.

“You like that too, hmm?”

He sinks into the sensation, eyes unfocused and breath coming in short, shallow gasps. After what is both way too much and way too little time, he rallies, calls on Captain Kidd to strengthen him and hits Akira with a real Zio spell.

That’s the turning point, and he’s not sure where the line between “semi-erotic kink exploration” and “straight up fighting” is but they’re definitely straddling it.

They keep going, back and forth, tearing control from each other and submitting to it by turn, neither of them pulling any punches, until they’re both close to passing out and it’s a struggle to even move. Ryuji’s lying flat on the floor, trying to catch his breath before counterattacking, when he sees Akira looming over him.

He reaches forward, and Ryuji doesn’t even have the energy to roll away; it’s not like he really minds what’s coming, anyway. He’s shaking like a leaf and it’s only partly because of the exhaustion; the other reason, a bit lower, strains against his jumpsuit and rubs uncomfortably on his bandolier-belt buckle. His eyes drift shut as Akira grabs his neck, presses carefully against it, and then there’s no holding anything back anymore.

His whole body seems to burst into light, like a ball of lightning. He stands on that edge for a second that lasts an eternity, and when he can’t bear another instant he lets go without even meaning to, loud and strong and _electric_ , light flashing out from him as he screams. The world explodes in shards of color and shadow, pain and pleasure, sound and silence. He feels like he’s been shattered into a million pieces, all floating on an unseen breeze, one with the universe.

When he manages to look around himself after what feels like a very long while, he’s surprised to notice that it’s pitch black. The lights in the Metaverse usually never flicker or go out. Was it him, with the lightning? No… that’s stupid. It doesn’t really matter, anyway…. He lets himself drifts back into a comfortable state of half-unconsciousness. Besides him, he can distantly hear Joker panting in the dark, the station otherwise dead silent.

It’s peaceful, and without any lights it’s easy to forget just how gross and creepy Mementos is. He’s on the way to being fully asleep when a loud screech of tires and a bright flash of light awakens him with a jolt.

“There you are!” a high-pitched voice calls out angrily. “I’ve been looking for you two everywhere, everyone was so worried! What were you thinking heading into Mementos alone?”

Ryuji hears Akira scramble to his feet. There’s an unmistakable sound as he zips his top up. Ryuji drags himself up as well, hoping what just happened won’t be … noticeable. Luckily though, Morgana seems to be more interested in yelling at them than reading the subtext.

“Your health readings are super low! Were you too _fighting?!”_

Ryuji tries to come up with an excuse, but neither his brain nor his mouth are cooperating, and all that comes out is some mumbled “n’t f’itin’.”

Akira comes to the rescue, only the slightest bit out of breath as he replies, “We were just practicing our new moves.”

“You _IDIOTS_! If you die without anyone to revive you how do you think you’re going to get back up?!”

They manage to make contrite faces as they drag themselves to the Mona-Bus. Before they get in, Mona turns back into his normal form and throws a healing spell at each of them. Ryuji’s surprised as it hits. There’s an unexpected side effect to healings, apparently. He’s still tired, though much less than before, and of course all the pain from various impacts with the wall and floor as well as the mild bruising around his neck is gone, but he’s also completely ready to go again. That’s definitely not usual for him, and he wonders how to bring it up before deciding that that’s information he can keep to himself. That’s one conversation he does not want to have.

The ride up is fast, but his suit feels extremely uncomfortable and he can’t wait to get out of Mementos. Usually, when they exit the Metaverse, they’re in the exact shape they were going in, including makeup, hair styling and state of cleanliness. If he’s lucky, that’ll extend to the current issue as well. If it doesn’t… well, he’ll have to hope the bathhouse across from LeBlanc’s is still open.

 

To his relief, his clothes are back to normal when he steps out of Mementos and into the attic, and definitely not _sticky_ or _stiff_ in places he’d rather they weren’t. He picks up his bag and goes to head down the stairs when Akira calls out, “Ryuji?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s getting kinda late, no? And you must be exhausted… do you think you wanna stay here tonight? I don’t want you to spend another hour on public transportation at this hour.”

He’s blushing and looking away, his weak excuse obviously just that, but Morgana screeches before Ryuji can find an appropriate reply.

“Whaaaat?! I don’t want to share my bedroom with Blondie! Fine, whatever, I’ll go stay with Futaba tonight,” he says haughtily as he stalks down the stairs. There’s a jingle as the front door opens and then closes behind him.

Usually, Ryuji regrets that he and Morgana don’t get along better. It’s a constant source of tension, and he knows it makes Akira sad. Right now, though, he’s extremely grateful for it

Next to him, Akira’s leaning back against his table, raising an eyebrow in Ryuji’s direction.

“Wanna discuss the elephant in the room?”

Ryuji comes to stand in front of Akira. “We could do that. Or —” he reaches forward and pops open the button on Akira’s pants with a single twist of his fingers  “ — we could leave talking for later.” He drops to his knees in front of Akira before looking up. Above him, Akira’s face is already crimson, but he manages to nod once as Ryuji reaches for the zipper on his jeans.

* * *

Not much changes after that; small things, really. Ryuji stops telling Akira to get a haircut. Akira buys a coil of rope and a bright red scarf that he hides under his bed. Morgana finds himself kicked out for the night on a convenient excuse every time Ryuji comes over alone. But none of those things are related, of course…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note: I did not research safe kinks for this, I just pulled it all outta my ass. Don't try any of this at home, kids.
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://thermopylod.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/thermopylod)!
> 
> Oh and uh, if you're curious. [Here's the hairpully](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TPGxkKii1Zg&t=540) ;)


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